Tin voices hollow in the night. Ringing out with the urgency that is fostered only here in this place. Holding the fascination of many, pleasing only a few.
The voices continue on pleading, whispering, yelling, comforting, arguing,
perpetuating. This is life here. Perpetual. Nothing has changed but the date.
She is there in the back, He is belly up to the bar, singing softly to no one. He is always double fisted, squeezing hope out of one glass and dreams out of the other. She walks by him, smilesbriefly, and leaves out the front door. He decides to have another round. And wait.
The voices continue on pleading, whispering, yelling, comforting, arguing,
perpetuating. This is life here. Perpetual. Nothing has changed but the date.
She is there in the back, He is belly up to the bar, singing softly to no one. He is always double fisted, squeezing hope out of one glass and dreams out of the other. She walks by him, smilesbriefly, and leaves out the front door. He decides to have another round. And wait.
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
Your face has a familiar look to me, but then again you could resemble many different folks other than yourself and I could go on and on, but what would be the point. No, I don't believe I've been to Mt. Baker, yet I'm always the rider not the driver so I tend not to pay much attention until we're there. I know that's lame, but whatever. I go to the mountain quite often because my boyfriend, Mark (aka: Spicolli) rides for GNU. Maybe you know him? Any hoo...Hugs